


Risk Management

by activevirtues



Category: Alias, First Monday
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-15
Updated: 2006-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/activevirtues/pseuds/activevirtues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small voice at the back of his mind wondered quietly if this made him gay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risk Management

Julian gripped the edge of the desk like a lifeline, bent across it with his ass in the air and his forehead dripping sweat onto the back of whatever memo he'd been studying so intently before all of this had happened. He choked out a gasp as the hard cock pounding into his ass slammed up against his prostate again and again, making colours spark behind his eyes and his whole body shudder. "Christ - God - _fuck_," he heard himself say, and as he was spurting into the hand that was wrapped around him, firmly stroking his cock even now, a small voice at the back of his mind wondered quietly if this made him gay.

\---

His 4:15 had cancelled, Julian had been told by his secretary. There was something going around, she'd said by way of explanation, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air in front of her like it would fan away any nearby diseases, and added that she was sure it wasn't serious. Julian hadn't been listening, but the hand gesture annoyed him, and he had made a mental note to start looking for a new secretary.

The thought ran through his head again as the tall doors to his office swung open. "Your delightful secretary had to run," said the man who appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere, in a smooth English accent. "She seemed to think that today was the day to begin taking Fridays off."

_So incredibly fired_, he decided, and sat back in his chair, saying nothing as the man closed the doors firmly behind him. "Congressman Lodge, allow me to introduce myself," began the man, turning to where Julian sat behind his thick oak desk.

"No," said Julian, shuffling the papers on his desk like he was the busiest man in Washington. Which, at the moment, was not all that far from the truth, all things considered.

"My name is Julian Sark," the man continued as if he hadn't spoken. "My employers are very interested in your many efforts in pursuit of a more secure America."

"And you can tell me all about it when you make an appointment, Mr. Sark." Julian turned the papers face down on his desk and stood, squaring his shoulders. "Until then, you can leave."

"Didn't your last appointment of the day cancel? In which case, I can't imagine what the harm in making a last-minute substitution might be. My employers would be most grateful." Sark smiled, all straight white teeth. He was still standing in front of Julian, immaculately pressed black pinstripe suit only emphasizing his lean body, not even a mobile phone marring the line of his jacket. Sark was obviously well paid, although he hadn't let slip who paid him, or what for. "What I have to say could greatly affect the security of the American people," Sark added helpfully, in an obvious attempt to pique Julian's curiosity.

Oh, _fine_. He'd bite. "You've got ten minutes. Be concise."

"I think you'll find you've made the right decision, Congressman Lodge," Sark said, sitting in the chair in front of Julian's desk and shuffling through his briefcase, which - wow, he hadn't had any idea that Prada even _made_ briefcases. Julian wondered even more at this point what exactly it was that Sark did, but Sark had begun to speak. "The House Foreign Relations committee is coming up on an important vote in a few days, I believe."

"Every vote is important," Julian drawled, settling back into his chair. "Everything we vote on affects the lives of the American people, and we do our best to make those lives safer. Therefore every vote is important."

"Ah, yes, making those lives safer. Much like the Homes and Families Act?"

Julian frowned. "Protecting the sanctity of marriage is in everyone's best interest. I'm proud that the House of Representatives and I voted to reflect that."

Sark raised an eyebrow. "And the section of the act which allows property owners to choose not to lease or sell their property to someone of a sexual orientation of which their faith disapproves?"

"Choice is at the forefront of the American way of life," Julian said, getting the feeling that Sark was somehow testing him. He was definitely being studied - Sark's eyes were fixed on him, and he thanked God for the thick oak desk between them. He licked his lips and continued. "I firmly believe that it is every American's right to choose when, how, and to whom he wishes to give or sell whatever it is that he owns."

Sark shrugged. "A fair point." He leaned forward. "This has absolutely nothing to do with that."

"I figured as much," Julian said. "You said something about a vote?"

"Yes. My employers wanted you to be aware that you would have their gratitude if you voted to approve the allocation of funds for military action. They are prepared to make a sizeable contribution to your campaign in order to express that gratitude. The House of Representatives reelects its members every two years, if I'm not mistaken." He leaned forward, schooling his features into as earnest an expression as he could manage. "The gratitude of my employers is a valuable thing, Congressman Lodge."

Julian stiffened, but kept his voice calm. "Let's ignore for a second the fact that, as an elected representative of the American people, my own ethics as well as the law would make such an offer impossible for me to accept, why don't you satisfy my curiosity by answering a few questions. You can start by telling me who your employers are and why they have such an interest in what the military does."

Sark smiled up at Julian. "I have no problem ignoring ethics to satisfy… well, _anything_, Congressman Lodge." He tossed the folder in his lap onto the desk and nodded at Julian to take it. "In this case, though, I'm afraid I cannot give you all that you ask. I'm in the business of taking care of problems for people, and my employers would have a problem if the military action did not go ahead as planned. They would prefer to keep this quiet, and so have hired me to use my many persuasive talents to ensure that those who are rumoured to be swing votes swing the way they ought."

"That's very cryptic. But you've wasted your time. I don't do business with men like you." Julian stood, walked around the desk to hand the folder to Sark, and nodded to the door. "Please leave."

"Men like me?" Sark said, standing. "I think you're better acquainted with men like me than you'd like to admit, Congressman."

"Also very cryptic. I have no clue what you're getting at." Julian licked his lips, slightly amazed that he managed to keep from colouring as Sark leaned forward, one hand braced against the desk inches away from Julian's thigh.

"You and I are very similar, Congressman Lodge. We're both smart men. We both know when take risks, and reap substantial rewards when we do. Running for Congress at such a young age was risky, but your impressive CV and your strong stance on the issues made the risk one worth taking. I appreciate that."

"I still don't see that we're anything alike, Mr. Sark. I can't be bought and sold like you seem to be."

Sark moved closer still, and Julian's breathing hitched slightly as he watched that tilted mouth form the words, "We all have our price."

Then he was up in Julian's face, whispering the last almost against Julian's mouth. "Especially you."

Julian's hand came up to the back of Sark's head, threading through the curly blond hair and tugging cruelly on the scalp and forcing his head sharply back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said pleasantly, watching for something in Sark's eyes, some flash of guilt, something to let him know if he was being played.

Nothing came. "I think you know," Sark said. "The same thing you're doing."

And then Julian was pulling that head down, crushing their mouths together, all teeth and tongues and hot, harsh breath. Sark's hands came up to his chest, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and tugging on his bow tie. His fingers made short work of the buttons on Julian's shirt, untucking it from his trousers and sliding his hands across his bare chest. Then he was yanking Julian's trousers down around his knees and the boxer-briefs underneath with them, that same crooked mouth following his hands to Julian's cock.

It didn't last long - Julian hadn't had this in ages, not since he was elected. He'd been too conscious of the public eye on him, too afraid of scandal, convinced that if something like this got out, people might think he was gay. And he wasn't - getting blown by some fag in a back alley didn't make him gay.

"Christ - God - I'm -"

He slumped back against the desk, coming in that mouth, that amazing, imperfect mouth, and he hadn't been done five seconds when he felt himself being turned, and then that mouth was kissing down his spine, licking a path down, and if he had anything left in him at all he'd shout, protest that this wasn't him, that he wasn't the kind of guy who -

Whatever it was he was going to say, he couldn't remember it, couldn't find it in his brain, couldn't open his mouth to make any sound but a moan. Sark's tongue was working at his ass, wet and dirty, licking over and in, and he couldn't do anything but writhe against the desk like he hadn't just come in that same mouth.

Then fingers joined the mouth, so slow and slick that he barely felt anything, and all the while Sark's mouth was still there, moving in such harmony with everything else that all he could do was clutch at the desk.

But Sark's mouth was pulling away, and the fingers were working him now, going deep, and pleasure and pain made his vision go red as the fingers scissored inside him, brushing over something he'd never -

And he was writhing again, curling around those fingers, and his dick was forced to hardness like he was sixteen again. And when the fingers pulled out, Julian gave a sob into the desk, and was wildly grateful when Sark's cock replaced them, entering him easier than he'd ever imagined it would be.

Sark leaned across him to murmur something, his voice low and silky in Julian's ear, but the words didn't register, only the breath against his skin and the rumble in his eardrums, barely audible over the rushing of blood. Then Sark bit down on his earlobe, tongue flicking once, twice, and he began to move inside Julian and every single nerve in his body seemed to stand to attention.

"God - faster -" he heard himself say, not sure what he was asking for. But Sark gave it to him, moving in shorter, quicker strokes that brushed right up against his prostate. One of Sark's hands gripped his hip, while the other caressed his dick, flicking over the head and smoothing it with the precome that wet the tip.

Sark's strokes became deeper, harder, and the hand on his dick matched them, and every stroke set sparks off across his vision. Then he was coming, the hand on his cock as relentless as Sark inside him. His world greyed, and he slumped against the desk, feeling Sark's hands clutch at his hips as he thrust once more and then stilled, Sark's head coming to rest on Julian's shoulder.

Their breathing slowed, and for a moment was the only sound in the room. Soon enough, though, Sark rose, and behind him Julian heard a rustle and then the closing of a zipper. He pushed himself up, turning to look up at Sark.

He was throwing a condom in the metal wastebasket beside John's desk. He barely looked rumpled, more flushed than anything, and if it weren't for the heat in Sark's eyes and the ache in his ass Julian would have though he'd imagined it all. Sark hadn't even bothered to take off his clothes.

Sark picked up the envelope from where it had fallen on the floor beneath the desk. There was a bit of come on the edge, and Sark wiped it off with the same handkerchief that he had obviously wiped himself off with, and then tossed it onto Julian's lap. "A sign of good faith," Sark said. "I'll contact you after the vote to discuss things in more detail."

Sark let himself out, and Julian watched him go. Then he opened the envelope, pulling out the photos inside.

His opponent in the upcoming election, a grey-haired, middle-aged Democrat with a wife and two kids, was there in black and white, getting his dick sucked in an alley behind a club in New York.

Julian closed his eyes, tossing the photos aside, and felt very, very old.


End file.
